The Mirror Shatters
by Nashdude
Summary: Quantum Leap: Mirror Image ended with Sam never getting home. But as Sam showed us, history can change! Thanks in advance for your interest, and any comments you might post. Enjoy! New chapter added 11.28.06
1. Chapter 1

"God bless, Sam," the bartender said, almost cooing with pride at Sam's sacrifice.

Then he leaped. He didn't really have to think about where he was headed. Sure, he knew now that he was in control of his Leaps, and he could go anywhere -- any _when -- _that he wanted to. It was no longer something that he could just blame on God, or Time, or Whoever. He was in the driver's seat now, and it was high time he made Project Quantum Leap work for _him._

Still, right and wrong were things that were best left up to someone else. Or Someone else, rather. He may be the one deciding where to Leap, but he still had a job to do when he got there. And for the first time since he started this crazy ride, he knew what his job would be before he even Leaped. It wasn't something he even had to think about. He just knew.

The world shifted. Reality shifted. The cool breeze fading as the world around him altered, a dark room replacing the falling night. Ray Charles played in the background, softly crooning _Georgia On My Mind._

"Beth," Sam whispered.

The brunette gasped, her lonely dance forgotten. The song played on uninterrupted. "Who are you?" she asked, her fright apparent in her voice. "How did you get in here?"

"I'm not gonna harm you," Sam assured her. "I'm here to help you." He paused for breath. "Help you and help Al."

"Al?" she said, the name seeming almost alien to her, yet so dear. Sam could only nod in response. "You... you're a friend of Al's?"

A friend? What kind of friend have I been, Sam wondered. The one person who's been there for me all these years. The one who never gave up on me. The one who's been the only lifeline I have to my own time. And I'm only now setting his life to right? What kind of friend am I?

Sam choked back the tears that threatened to fill his eyes. "Yeah," he finally said with conviction. "I'm a friend of Al's." Thankfully, Beth took him at his word, and relaxed a bit. "Do you think we could sit?"

Beth nodded, and she sat. Sam took a place on the floor in front of her.

"I'm gonna tell you a story, Beth," he began. "A story with a happy ending. But only if you believe me."

"And if I don't?" she asked. The casual look in her eye couldn't hide the hope that was pounding inside her.

"You will," Sam answered. "I swear you will. But instead of starting with 'once upon a time', let's start with the happy ending." The tears welled in his eyes again, but this time he let them come, softened by a wide smile. "Al's alive. And he's coming home."

Beth answered with tears of her own. She lost her breath, and was unable to say anything. Not that there was any need to. Sam knew. Knowing Al this long, he knew. He had done his penance. He had put right what had once went wrong.

_Al's alive. And he's coming home. _

Those words seemed to bring such joy to her.

Her _who?_ He knew her name, just as surely as he knew why he'd spoken those words. But for one reason or another, he couldn't recall it just now. Becky? Bess? Well, maybe it wasn't important. Apparently, what he'd said was enough to make this Leap worth while.

_Al's alive. And he's coming home._

Who's Al? Why hadn't he come home before?

Sam started to worry. This was something that he _should_ know! He _knew_ Al. Didn't he? Frantically, he cast about is mind, desperate to hold on to Al as history changed around him. Memories returned, very sluggishly at first, and then solidifying as Sam lost other memories in their place.

Sam's eyes panned around the room for some glimpse of something_, anything_, that would help him to keep his memory of Al from swiss-cheesing on him. He caught sight of a photo. Yeah, it looked familiar, but even that was fading. As he watched blue lightning cascade down the face in the picture, it began to dawn on him that something was terribly wrong.

He felt that long-familiar sensation of weightlessness steal over him as the past fade and a new life began to unfold before him, as was always the case when he Leaped. _To put right what once went wrong._ That's how someone had put it once. That's what Sam did. He put something right. But in doing so, something in _his_ life had gone terribly wrong. If only he knew how wrong, or how to put it right again.

He was at a loss. He felt his memories being stolen away; not bits and pieces, as was normal during a Leap. Whole segments of his life were lost to him now, and more being ripped away. It was like he was Leaping again for the first time, that time when Admiral Calavicci... Al...

That name again. Gotta hold on to that name.

Sam poured all his concentration into remembering Al. But the memories were slippery. The more he tried to retain them, the more they would resist. He started to panic, although he wasn't sure why.

He forced himself to focus, to calm down. In this void, this in-between world he crossed between Leaps, memories fled while new ones were born. The past would reshape itself, and his mind would have to play catch-up in here, creating a swiss-cheese effect in his memory. He realized he had to get out of here, and fast. He had to talk to Jacob, the Project Overseer, and find out what Alpha (Ziggy?) knew about what was going on.

But how? Sam willed his movement through the void to stop. He couldn't enter another life without figuring this out first. Too much was at stake.

Sam thought back to his previous Leap, one where he found himself walking into a bar (Al's) at the precise moment he was born. Remarkable, to say the least. He remembered that... the Project Overseer... was very excited about the implications of Leaping into the moment of his own birth. Sam remembered saving those miners. He remembered saving the life of Szhtapos... and watching Szhtapos Leap right before his eyes. Something else... something important...

He remembered Al the Bartender telling him that he was controlling his Leaps!

Remember that. For God's sake, remember that.

He remembered Leaping (physically, in his own body) into that woman's home, and giving her a message. _Al's alive. And he's coming home._ He remembered her crying and laughing at the same time... and that's where his memories started going haywire!

That's the key!

But what to do about it?

Sam couldn't go back to that woman's home, that much was certain. Even if he could find a way back there, he could possibly nullify the good he'd done on that Leap.

So where else could he find his answers?

He considered Leaping back to the bar, but part of him told him that it was a one-time deal, that the bar hadn't actually been there, that it was just a way that God or Time or Whoever had been Leaping him around could meet Sam face to face, for once. So that was out.

Could he Leap home? Into himself back at the Project? Hoping against hope, Sam willed himself home, into his own body. He willed that his Leaping was over. He willed that he could just be Sam Beckett again.

But what about Al?

Sam felt himself being pulled away, speeding towards his next destination. Somehow, he knew even before he opened his eyes that he wasn't home yet. Maybe it was the smell...

The mixed smells of rotting garbage and body odor fought for domination of Sam's senses, as if trying to determine which one would make him throw up first. Sam's body felt wrapped in sticky rags, grit and grime rubbing against his body beneath them.

Sam opened his eyes tentatively, hoping to see the metallic walls of the Acceleration Chamber, but instead finding the brick walls of an alley. A cloudy sky overhead rained freezing drizzle down on him. Old moldy newspapers covered him from the neck down. Sam grimaced, and pushed the makeshift blanket back from his body, knowing what he would find. Sure enough.

"Oh, boy," Sam groaned. "I'm a bum!"


	2. Chapter 2

"Where is he?" Jacob demanded. "Alpha was certain that Sam would Leap home this time."

Gooshie was at a loss. "I don't know, Admiral Hoss. According to his calculations, Dr. Beckett had a 98 probability of Retrieval after Leaping out of Mrs. Calavicci's home."

Jacob took a deep breath, desperately trying to organize his thoughts. He was the third Project Observer since Quantum Leap's inception in 1999. He was the first African-American naval officer to work at such a high level in the government's temporal physics project. He was a husband, a father, and a war hero. He wasn't _about_ to be one-upped by a stinking computer!

"Alpha," Jacob said in a measured voice. "Run through your theory again."

"Of course, Admiral Hoss," the hybrid computer replied, it's soft baritone voice sounding strangely of stressed patience. "After seven years of Leaping from life to life, Dr. Beckett Leaped, both mind _and_ body, into the very second in history that he was born. Considering the unlikelihood of this merger occurring at a chronological point precisely congruent with his own inception, and considering the extreme improbability that Dr. Beckett would cease to exist after having Leaped into said chronological point, I computed a 98.627 percent probability that his next Leap would return him to the most current point in history."

"In English, Alpha," Jacob groaned.

"In English, I speculated that he would return to the present," Alpha replied, a bit too cheerfully for Jacob's tastes.

"So why is he not in the Acceleration Chamber?"

"I think Sam _is_ back, in a manner of speaking," Dr. Verbeena Beeks answered. As Jacob turned to glower at her, she continued. "True, his body Leaped out of the Imaging Chamber during his Leap to Al's Bar, but it's back. That _must_ mean that he's alive somewhere in time."

Jacob allowed this to sink in as Verbeena continued. "The gentleman inhabiting Sam's body right now is definitely from the very recent past, quite possibly the present. In the interview, he didn't know exactly what year it was, let alone the exact date, but his use of slang and references lead me to believe that Sam did, in fact, Leap into _today_, if not into his own body."

Jacob was quiet as he thought on this. In the right time, but the wrong body? Well, stranger things had happened. If they could locate Sam, they would be able to employ him in finally putting this whole parade to rest. This may be just the break they need.

"Okay, here's what we're gonna do..."

* * *

Sam struggled into a sitting position. His dingy clothes made a repulsive sucking sound as they peeled away from the slimy asphalt of the alley street. A chorus of pops issued from every joint in Sam's (or rather, the bum's) body as he stood. 

_Wonderful,_ Sam thought. _Not only do I Leap somewhere that is definitely _not _home, but I need a bath and a chiropractor as soon as I get here. Where's Jacob, anyway?_

_No! It's _Al, _Sam! Admiral Albert Calavicci, the Navy appointed Observer to Project Quantum Leap. I don't care who the Project Observer is in this timeline. You need _Al. _Remember that._

He looked around, trying to get his bearings. Other dingy bodies lined the alley at irregular intervals, some covered in newspapers, some not. Overhead, an elevated rail system spanned the skyline just above two buildings that made up his current residence. At the far end of the alley, he spied a red neon sign, flickering in a state of disrepair. XXX Grrlz it seemed to say.

Okay, he was definitely in a big city. Somewhere. But where? And _when?_

He turned his eyes back to his makeshift blanket and snatched up a random page. It was old and crumpled with use, but the words were still legible. _Albequerque Cryer_, it said. Evening edition. Date...

"Oh, boy," Sam gasped, almost dropping the page. "October 17, 2006! Oh, my God. I'm home. I'm home!"

He ran down the alley, page still in hand. As he approached the street, other neon signs filled his vision. Plasma screen billboards. Call girls with pierced navels and light-up jewelry. He stopped on the sidewalk, stunned. Every way he turned, there was color. Blue. Pink. Green. All of it beautiful.

Then he saw it. A simple neon sign buried amongst the visual cacophony of modern civilization. One that he'd seen a whole lifetime ago, or ten minutes depending on how you looked at it.

_Al's Place._

No. It wasn't possible.

Sam's head spun, almost to the point of making him nauseous. There was no way on God's green earth that _that_ place could be there. Not in this city, or this time. He wasn't even sure that the other bar had really been there. A time-space anomaly, maybe? A nexus of distinct timelines? A waypoint between parallel universes? Whatever it was, it was definitely outside of _this_ timeline, _this_ universe. So there was _no way_ that the bar he saw at the end of the street could be the bar he just left.

All the while he'd been arguing with himself, his feet had carried him closer to the bar, seemingly of their own accord. Now, at the end of the argument, when he was certain he'd never set foot in the place, the front door stood only a few feet in front of him. The door was flanked by a park bench, very similar to the one he'd shared with a certain bartender very recently. The sign on the door said "Open".

To his utter amazement, he stepped inside.

* * *

"Alpha, how's it coming, buddy?" Jacob asked, trying to sound more patient than he felt. 

"It's not, Admiral Hoss," the computer replied. "The algorithms for locating Dr. Beckett are having a difficult time computing the quantum-chronological data."

"And why's that?" Again, spoken patiently. Translation: _Dear God, I wish this overgrown motherboard would speak English for once!_

"Because by the time the data is factored into the algorithms, the data is 0.00411 nanoseconds old," the computer stated somewhat glumly.

That did it. _"Gooshie!"_ he yelled.

The red-haired programmer stepped forward and cleared his throat nervously. The admiral's quick temper was legendary. If he hadn't been so good at what he did, he'd have never made officer, let alone admiral. But his people skills left something to be desired. "He means that as soon as we input the data for _now_, it's not _now_ anymore," Gooshie said.

"You're kidding me," Jacob said incredulously. He was not laughing.

"N-no sir. We'd never do anything like that," Gooshie said sincerely.

Jacob sighed, ran a hand across his eyes. This was not good. As Project Observer, it was his responsibility to keep tabs on the Doc throughout his Leaps. If there was no way to locate Sam, then the Doc would have to come to the Project on his own. But what if he were hurt? What if the swiss-cheese effect fried his brain the way it almost had when he Leaped the first time?

What if the Naval Appropriations Committee decided to scrap the whole project due to its unpredictable, _unprofitable_ nature?

"C'mon, Sam," Jacob muttered, almost in prayer. "Help me out here, buddy."


	3. Chapter 3

The door brushed an old fashioned brass bell as Sam pushed it open, reminding him eerily of a very similar entrance made just a few hours before in a very similar bar. Holding his breath, he swung his eyes toward the bar.

_Oh, thank God,_ he thought as his breath whooshed out in a delicious sigh of relief. The bartender was skinny, young, blonde, and possessed of a _very_ professional air. The way he attacked the counter top with his too-clean dishrag spoke volumes. This was _his_ place, _his_ bar, _his_ little corner of the American market, and he'd see it succeed come Hell or high water. A far cry from the jovial, laid-back barkeep of August 8th, 1953. Well, whatever else this bar might be, it wasn't the "crossroads" that the other Al's Place had been.

Still, the rest was too similar...

"Wassup, man, what can I get for ya," the young man asked with interest, his dishrag vanishing behind the counter.

For a moment, Sam was dumbstruck. _Okay, I'm here. Now what?_ His mouth worked vainly, like a fish out of water. Finally, he sputtered the only words that came to mind. "Al C-c-calavicci..."

"Ummmm yeah... who are you?"

"No, wait... _y-you're_ Al?"

The young man chuckled. "You're not the first to ask that. Yes, I'm Al—well, Albert, actually. No, I'm not the only one. I'm named after my grandfather."

"You're grandfather's name is Al Calavicci?"

"Yeah. I'm his oldest daughter's kid. Mom never married, so I got the old man's name. We still crack wise about it at family reunions. Now that we've gone through my genetic makeup, can I get ya something?"

Sam's head spun crazily. Al's grandson! It _couldn't_ be coincidence that he just walked into this bar, _Al's Place_, and found him working behind the counter. The other Al—the other _bartender_ Al—must have sent him here. Or did Sam send himself, with the previous bar being a premonition of this one?

A torrent of possibilities—and _im_possibilities—flooded his mind. His breath came in short pants. Black spots started to appear in his field of vision. Now the barroom was spinning, not just his head.

"Whoa, hey! Easy there, sport," Albert said, rounding the bar and catching Sam as he was about to collapse. He led Sam to the nearest table and deposited him in the chair. "Not so much as a beer and you're already doing the whino shuffle. Ain't that a kick in the pants."

"I know that!" Sam gasped. "Al says that phrase."

"Yeah, he says a lot of stuff," Albert said slowly, as if speaking to a child. "Now how's about I call you a ride. I'm sure the boys in blue would be able to hook you up at a local shelter."

"I gotta to see him! He'll know what's going on."

"Not gonna happen, buddy," the bartender said over his shoulder as he stepped back around the bar and picked up the phone.

"What do you mean? I _need_ to see Al! You _have_ to take me to him!"

"Why? So the old man can fuss at me about picking up strays? I got no idea who you are, buddy, and no intention of carrying your tail all the way across town just to find out."

"_Al's here in Albequerque?_" Sam said, standing back up.

"You need to chill, buddy," said Albert, raising his hand before him, though Sam wasn't sure if it was a warding or a warning action.

_Think, damn it, _think! _There's got to be something up there in that swiss-cheese head of yours that you can use._

But there wasn't much. Most of his memories of Al vanished as he Leaped. What he had left didn't seem to be of much use here. Except...

"_Trudy!_" Sam blurted out.

Albert's finger froze on the phone's keypad. His eyes shot up, full of menace... and curiosity. "How do you know that name? That's a very private matter, family only."

"Yes! Family! Al's sister. She had Downs Syndrome. She and Al were split up when their dad... umm... left," Sam finished lamely, having hit a hole in his memory. _Damn swiss-cheesed brain. _Why'd_ he leave? Does it matter? Probably not._ He pushed on. "Al was put in an orphanage, and Trudy was committed to an institution. By the time Al was old enough to go find her, she'd already died of... of..."

"Pneumonia," Albert finished, stunned. "How do you know all that?"

"Please. You've got to let me see Al."

Albert stood frozen for a moment more, then his finger touched the keypad on the phone.

"Hey, Pops? Yeah, it's me... No, things were kinda slow up until a few minutes ago. Listen, are you free tonight?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Penny for your thoughts?" Beth asked as Al parked on the curb in front of Al's Place.

"What? Can't a guy get a moment of silence without his wife coming behind him, wondering what his major malfunction is?" He said this in fun, but he knew what Beth was after. He hadn't said a word since they got in the car. "I mean, really, Beth! Some bum walks into the bar out of thin air, throws Albert for a loop with some Calavicci trivia, and I'm supposed to come over and entertain this nozzle?"

"Oh, gimme a break, Al," Beth nudged him playfully. "You're as curious as I am. Besides, if I have to sit through another one of your Sci-Fi nights..."

"Hey, at least it ain't _Extreme Makeover: Orbital Edition_," he returned, getting out of the car.

The brass bell jingled as Al opened the door for Beth, drawing Albert's attention. The kid looked tired. Al wasn't the least bit surprised. He'd offered Albert a new car for his graduation present, but true to form, the kid had turned him down. Never was one to accept a handout. Now _giving_ a handout...

He'd asked Al to go in halves with him on this bar. Had some hair-brained idea about being a shelter for the homeless. "The bar will draw them in, then I can help them," Albert had said. Wasn't that bad of an idea, as it turned out. Thanks to some new legislation that had passed at the state level, Al's Place was actually turning a profit. The government was sending grants right and left due to the homeless shelter status, and the nightly regulars were keeping Al's Place stocked with some fair-to-middlin' booze. All in all, it was beginning to look like a wise investment.

Then Al looked at Albert's tired face again. There always seemed to be a price to pay...

Albert caught his eye, and nodded his head to one side, indicating the scroungy young man in the corner. The bum had been nursing a cup of coffee when the doorbell jingled. Now he was looking up at him, mouth agape, eyes wide.

"Al! Oh, my God, Al!"

The bum sprinted across the barroom and wrapped Al in a bear hug. Al was so shocked that he could think of nothing but to hug the guy back! "Ummm... hey, listen. I..."

"Al, you gotta help me. Something happened out at the Project, and now I got some guy named Jacob running the place instead of you—don't ask me how I know that, because I haven't even met him yet—but if you're not at the Project, then I'm never gonna get home, regardless of whether or not I'm Leaping me or not..."

"Whoa, hold on a second there," Al said, pushing the bum back from him. Project? He couldn't be talking about _The_ Project, could he? "How's about we start with my name is...?"

"I can't tell you. Not just yet. You probably wouldn't believe me anyway if I told you the whole story." The hobo said, half to himself. He turned and led Al toward a laptop computer that Albert had set up on the bar for public use. "Bring Beth with you. This involves her too."

_Oh ya, this guy's hit granny's cough medicine one too many times_, Al thought. By the time he and Beth caught up to the bum, he was already flying over the keyboard of the laptop like a programmer, surfing through a number of different search engines.

"Okay," the bum started, still hammering at the keyboard. "I don't know how much I changed history the last time I Leaped, so I'll explain this as simply as I can. Take a string—this represents your life from beginning to end. If you tie the ends together, you get a loop. This is the conventional understanding of String Theory, in which time loops back on itself. I theorized that if you ball the string up, you could Leap from one day to another within your own lifetime. I designed a machine to do this, but I tried it before it was finished, and things went..."

"...a little ca-ca," Al said, his face turning a queer shade of green.

"You know?" the bum said, not entirely surprised.

"Ya. Project Quantum Leap. But that's all classified information. How do...?"

Just then, the bum opened one of the links in the search engine, bringing up a picture of a distinguished young scientist, an MIT whiz-kid that Al had worked with at an earlier project. Dr. Sam Beckett.

But before he could say anything, Beth gasped and fainted.


	5. Chapter 5

Al was standing beside Beth when she crumpled, but her fainting spell caught him off-guard, so he almost missed when he shot out a steadying arm. Thankfully, she didn't _completely_ faint, so he was able to lower her awkwardly into a nearby chair.

"Grab her some coffee, kiddo," Al called over his shoulder.

"You bet, Pops," Albert said as he rounded the bar, headed for the coffee pot he had on constant brew in the mini kitchen.

"You might want to give her something just a bit stronger," Sam said as he joined Al and Beth.

Al cast a sharp look at Sam, but barely hesitated a second. "Albert, make that a shot of Jack." His grandson nodded, a bit confused, then moved to comply.

"I guess you know something about this?" Al asked, tilting his head toward Beth. Though spoken as a question, the look in his eyes turned it into an accusation. Al's arm rested gently on Beth's shoulders, his touch both soothing and violently protective at the same time.

"It's a little foggy, but ya, I think so." Sam wanted to say more, but didn't know exactly what. Albert returned with Beth's whiskey, saving Sam an awkward explanation.

"That's him," Beth muttered groggily around a mouthful of alcohol. "That's _him_, Al! The angel."

Okay, maybe just a _little_ awkward.

"Listen, Bethie," Al started. "I'm not sure—"

"I'm telling you, Al, that's _him_! I'd recognize him anywhere, even after all this time."

Al wasn't convinced at all, but he turned his eyes back to Sam. He took a deep, steadying breath—the kind a sniper takes before he pulls the trigger. "Okay, hotshot. You want me to believe you're Sam Beckett? Here's your chance. Tell me about this angel of hers."

The question wasn't all that unexpected, but Sam's heart still leapt in his chest. He imagined briefly that he should be worried about what all his swiss-cheesed brain had forgotten, but his mouth kicked into high gear before fear could shut it.

"You were missing in action during the Vietnam War. In the original 1969, Beth had you declared dead, and she remarried. Back when I first started Leaping, I had the chance to set things right for you... but I didn't." Sam paused to swallow his shame, made new again in the retelling of what had been ancient history until today. At least, ancient history for _him_. For _this_ Al, everything Sam was telling him was new. And he couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw the same look of betrayal cross Al's face that had colored it that day so many Leaps ago, the day when Sam let his best friend in the whole world down.

Sam pressed on. "I was afraid of what it would do to our history, changing events in one of our own lives. There was no telling what affecting histories directly connected to Quantum Leap would do, so I was afraid. Later, I had the chance to save my brother's life, and my Dad's. I thought the opportunity was worth the risk, and you supported me in that. I never had the chance to pay you back... until this last Leap.

"I found Beth in her living room with the lights out. She was dancing in the dark by herself. The record player was playing... Georgia on My Mind..."

Surprisingly, Sam's swiss-cheesed brain hadn't clogged up yet, and he could have kept going a while longer, but Al's expression told him that it wasn't necessary. Al had heard this part of the story from Beth a thousand times, the part about the "angel", and he knew it by heart. The darkened room. The dance. The song. The man with a grey streak in his hair appearing out of thin air, then vanishing in a cascade of blue lightning. Sam saw confirmation in Al's face, sure, and a dawning trust as well. But he also saw something else, something unexpected.

Was it relief? Had Al worried all these years that his wife was a touch crazy? Did she have a long, drawn-out case of what would come to be known as Alzheimer's Syndrome? Or perhaps her own personal post-traumatic stress disorder? Sam couldn't tell; the look was gone as fast as it had appeared, replaced by an crooked, sheepish grin.

"Hiya, Sam," Al said. "Your fashion sense has taken a big hit since the last time I saw you."

"Oh, that's a good one," Sam laughed. "You want to talk to _me_ about fashion!"

The four of them talked long into the night. There was a bit of awkwardness when it came time to explain Projects Starbright and Quantum Leap to Albert and Beth, but nothing that Al and Sam couldn't handle.

Beth took the revelation in stride. A military wife for nearly fifty years, she'd picked up a hint or two of Al's classified career, so it was actually a relief to have Al finally fill in the gaps.

Albert was another matter. He knew practically nothing of the "cool sci-fi stuff" his grandfather was a part of. For him, the explanation wasn't an answering of old questions, but rather the birth of a thousand new ones.

Sam even got a few answers of his own. "Okay, wait a minute. Even if you were repatriated in 1973, and not 1975 like in the original history, then how do you have a grandson Albert's age? I mean, your daughter has to be about thirty three years old."

Wrong question. Everyone else sitting at the table turned every color known to man... red, green, white. "Ancient Chinese secret," Beth joked as she nursed a fresh shot of Jack Daniels.

Albert was the one to speak up. "I was a teen pregnancy. Back in the '80's, the popular thing to do when you find out on your fifteenth birthday that you're pregnant is to have an abortion, but Pops wouldn't let her. When she had me, Grams and Pops had to raise me, since Mom was still in school. And they've been an active part of my life ever since," he added proudly. "Here I am, nineteen years old, graduated high school early, own my own bar and homeless shelter, and in my third year at MIT-Online studying Humanoid Robotics and Quantum Physics. I can't tell you the strings he had to pull to get MIT to let me attend class online..."

A startling thought occurred to Albert. "Wait a second, Pops. It was _your_ suggestion that I branch out into Quantum Physics. What the—"

"Uh uh uh, kiddo. Never question the puppetmaster," Al said sagely. Albert fumed for a moment at being so deftly maneuvered into position to join Quantum Leap, but the "cool sci-fi" aspect of it helped him get over it quickly.

Finally, it came time to get down to business.

"Okay, so then you _never_ joined me at Project Quantum Leap?" Sam asked.

"No," Al said. "After the Navy scrapped Starbright, I opted for retirement. I'd missed seeing the girls grow up, and the grandkids were starting school already. I figured I'd given my pound of flesh for God and country, so I decided to take it easy."

"But you knew about Quantum Leap."

Al snickered at this. "You remember that old Eagles song? 'You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.' It's kinda like that."

A light went on in Sam's mind. "Consultant?"

"Consultant," Al nodded. "My time at Starbright made me the perfect civilian liaison for the civilian project you were starting. Since the Navy was funding it, they had to put Admiral Hoss in as Observer. But as even you're swiss-cheesed memory should recall, Jacob's not exactly a people person. That's where I come in. I smooth out the wrinkles that are constantly popping up between you and him."

"So we're friends then?" Sam asked, unsure why the question should carry so much weight for him.

"Yeah, kinda, I guess," Al said with a shrug. "I mean, you're closer to Jacob than you are to me, but I guess you could call us friends. We've never gone camping or anything, if that's what you mean. Beth and Donna talk on the phone occasionally, but nothing major."

"That's got to be it," Sam exclaimed almost to himself. "The first time I met you, we were at Starbright. You were drunk and... doing something destructive," he stammered as he hit a pothole in his memory. "You were angry. Not just that day, but everyday. You were bitter about something, and I'll bet it was Beth. Anyway, whatever it was that you were doing, I stopped you, and we became friends. I can't remember all the details, of course, but I get the impression we were best friends."

"I think I see where you're going with this," Al said. "When Beth didn't remarry like she did the first time, I didn't turn into a total nozzle like the one you met. I didn't draw your attention that day, and we didn't become friends."

"Well, I'm sure you're still a nozzle," Sam joked.

"Do you think that the loss of that friendship might be why you can't get home?" Albert spoke up uncertainly.

That startled Sam, more for its simplicity than for the fact that he didn't think of it first.

It made perfect sense, too much to write it off as mere coincidence that his first controlled Leap after speaking to Beth didn't bring him home. Something about his friendship—_previous_ friendship—with Al had been the key. And now that that friendship was gone, or at least different, whatever magic it had to bring him home was gone, too.

Now that he thought it through, he was ashamed he hadn't seen it earlier. Al the Bartender had alluded to as much. He said that Sam couldn't go home yet, but he _could_ go on sabbatical. Now he thought he knew why. Had he gone home, he would have blown his last chance to set right a great wrong in his friend's life, a decision that he wouldn't have been able to live with.

But now that he _had_ set Al's life right, he was trapped, doomed forever to Leap around in time until he finally dies somewhere in the past.

Unless, that is, he could find that key, that special something that he and Al had shared that would finally bring him home. But what could it be?


	6. Chapter 6

It was Al's decision that they call it a night. Just as well, too. Sam was about to launch another assault at a problem that none of them would be able to solve sitting in the bar.

"You gonna be okay, kiddo?" Al asked his grandson. Albert had broken from the little group to tend the Tuesday Night edition of Lifestyles of the Poor and Homeless, who had started filling the bar just shy of midnight.

"Oh yeah, no prob. The beer's been cut off, the whiskey's locked up, and the coffee pots are churning out ten gallons an hour. As long as my help shows up tonight, I'm good."

"Casey's been calling in again?" Beth asked, rolling her eyes in exasperation. Casey Hickman was a nice enough girl—nice enough that she and Albert had dated for a while—but she was hardly reliable. Beth didn't even bother waiting for Albert to make his excuses for Casey. She just hustled over to the bar and grabbed an apron that was handing on one of the beer taps. "You boys go on without me," she said, turning to Al and Sam. "I can't leave Albert to try and handle this by himself—"

"Grams, I do it all the time," Albert protested.

Beth ignored him. "—and besides, you've probably got a lot of things to discuss that would put me to sleep anyway. So go on ahead. We'll be fine. Oh, and Sam?"

Sam, who had been struggling to get his host's smelly, slimy jacket back on, paused at the sound of his name and looked up.

Beth's eyes were luminescent, both insanely happy and utterly sad at the same time. Tears brimmed the corners of her eyes, but they didn't fall. She tilted her head defiantly, struggling to rein in emotions that were swiftly getting away from her. "Thank you, Sam," she croaked finally. She cleared her throat and dabbed at her eyes. "You could have gone home, had every right to. But instead you... didn't." Not trusting herself to say more, she turned away, headed for the soup kitchen in the back.

"C'mon, Sam. Let's go," Al said, his own voice just a little husky.

* * *

As the night wore on, all nonessential personnel started drifting toward their bunks. Those who didn't "drift" that way were ordered there by Admiral Hoss. Of course they left quietly, muttering apologies that weren't really taken seriously. Everyone was on the same page here—if you're too tired to work the problem, you're _part_ of the problem. Everyone wanted Sam home, but passing out at a duty station wasn't going to make it happen any quicker. 

By 0200, only three people remained in the Control Room with Jacob—Dr. Donna Alessi, Dr. Sammy Jo Fuller-Beckett, and of course, Gooshie. And even Jacob was beginning to feel the strain. It wasn't fatigue, well, not entirely. He'd just always been the last man standing, and after the week they'd had with Sam, he just couldn't seem him passing another sleepless night.

He knew he'd never outlast two of the doctors. Dr. Alessi wouldn't go to bed because Sam was her husband. Dr. Fuller-Beckett wouldn't go to bed because—in some crazy, mixed-up, Quantum Leapy way that Jacob would probably never understand—she was Sam's daughter. But Gooshie... all he had at stake here was making sure his ever-lovin' computer didn't have a meltdown. There was no _way_ he'd desert Sam before Gooshie did. No way in the...

"Admiral Hoss," Alpha's rich baritone rumbled. "I do not believe that you can read your monitor with your eyes closed."

"Pack it, Alpha. I wasn't sleeping," Jacob said as he snapped to attention.

"That is correct, Admiral Hoss. But while you had not yet entered REM sleep, you were issuing audible cavitations from your nose and throat. Therefore—"

"I was _not_ snoring!"

"Ummm, Jacob... I'm afraid you were," Dr. Alessi said sympathetically. For confirmation, she nodded in Dr. Fuller-Beckett's direction. The young woman—far too young and beautiful to be a quantum physicist, Jacob always thought—hid her smile gracefully behind a staged yawn.

"Don't sweat it, Jacob. You're tired and you know it. Whether or not we find Sam tonight is beside the point. You can do us no good in your current condition." Jacob was about to protest yet again when Sammy Jo added, "Do I have to wake up Verbeena and have her declare you unfit for duty?"

Jacob drew a heated breath, then sighed in resignation. They were right, of course. No two ways about it. He pointedly did _not_ look in Gooshie's direction. Chances were very good that the whole exchange had slipped by him completely. For the last few hours, the little red-headed man with the bad breath had been happily running diagnostics on the Backup Power Subsystems Relay, a device that was hardly ever used. "Well, you never know when we might have to shunt power through the Imaging grid into our backup power cells. Granted, the nuclear cells that power the computers that run the Imaging Flux Algorithms have a half-life of over..." Jacob pretty much ignored him from that point forward.

"Okay, okay, you guys win. I'll turn in. But first... Alpha, I want you to page Admiral Calavicci. The Department of Defense would have my hide if they knew I'd left my post unattended at a time like this."

"Done, Admiral Hoss."

Jacob stretched, his spine popping loudly in the quietly humming Control Room. "Good. I'm going to the Galley and see if I can scrounge me up something to eat. Make sure youalert me when Al gets here."

"Understood, Admiral Hoss."

"Thanks, Alpha."

"You are welcome. And Admiral Hoss?"

"Yes?"

"Admiral Calavicci is here."

Jacob's jaw dropped. "Why didn't you tell me that in the first place?" he asked incredulously.

"It is impolite to interrupt when someone else is talking."

"Oh, brother," Jacob said, rubbing his temples in anticipation of the headache that he knew was coming.

* * *

Sam moved slowly as he and Al approached the main entrance to Project Quantum Leap. He was struck by how _normal_ everything seemed. Everything was exactly as he remembered, from the name above his old parking space to the security access with the "twitchy" buttons at the first checkpoint. 

"I think we have more important things to do than see how many bugs the place still has after seven years," Al said knowingly. He knew what Sam really wanted.

And as if by magic, his wish was granted...

* * *

Donna didn't quite know what to expect. Al had never really been given to committing acts of such recklessness, and he would _never_ risk the security of the Project without good cause. 

But a _bum_? And at _this_ time of night? And without so much as a warning! She was definitely going to have to talk to Beth about this...

And then she saw him, and she knew. She'd probably never know how or why. She just knew...


	7. Chapter 7

The minutes, then hours, that followed Sam's reception outside the control area of Project Quantum Leap whisked by in a blur of activity and emotion. Years after, Sam would struggle to pull a single image from that night, a single phrase that someone had been spoken, but he would always come up empty. His memory faded the moment he, clothed in the body of some unknown homeless person, wrapped his arms around his wife and pulled her close.

One might say that the memories swiss-cheesed.

"Dr. Beckett?" chirped a strangely inhuman baritone, shattering the blissful peace of the darkened room.

"Hmmph?" Sam muttered into his pillow, valiantly attempting to remain ignorant of the waking world. Dr Donna Alessi, lying beside him in bed, barely stirred.

"Dr. Beckett?"

"Mmmoozat?"

"Dr. Beckett, I apologize for waking you, but Admiral Hoss required that I not let you 'sleep too godawful late'."

"What time is it?"

"Approximately 0630 hours, 37 seconds."

"What?" Sam half-shouted at the disembodied voice, sitting up in bed. Donna moaned her disbelief and burrowed deeper into her own expansive bank of pillows. "Alpha, why in God's name would you wake me up at 6:30 on my first day back?"

"I thought you might enjoy sleeping in for an extra half hour," Alpha replied, sounding somewhat pleased with itself.

"That's a computer's logic for you," Donna mumbled sleepily.

"All things considered, I think I actually liked him better as a female," Sam replied, flopping wearily back into bed.

Donna peeked one menacing eye out from within her mound of pillows. Bleary with fatigue, to be sure, and full of love for her husband, but menacing all the same. ''Please tell me that you didn't give her Barbara Streisand's personality."

Sam laughed. Donna's dislike of the actress had always been a source of cheap amusement for him, and though he couldn't remember specifically who he patterned Alpha's alter-ego after, he had to admit that anything was possible. With Al Calavicci as Project Observer, Sam would've believed anything from that history.

In the end, Sam did the only thing he could. He smiled big, kissed Donna tenderly, and pled the fifth due to swiss-cheese.

Finding no other reasonable objections, Sam swung his legs out of bed and stumbled his way toward the bathroom. "Lights," he muttered, queuing the automated housekeeping systems and illuminating the bathroom. His heart skipped a beat when he found the face of a total stranger staring back at him from the vanity mirror,and it took him a moment to realize that the face he saw belonged to the Leapee.

_So strange to be home, and yet not be home,_ he thought. He'd only been back in his own time once in the seven years since his first Leap, and that had been an accident. Amongst all the rest of his swiss-cheesed memories, the images of those few hours were crystal clear.

He'd Leaped into a mental patient committed to an institution, and through the course of the Leap, he'd received electroshock therapy at the hands of a sadistic orderly named Butch. The trauma of electroshock temporarily shattered Sam's mind, and he took on the personalities of certain previous Leapees. With the help of Dr. Beeks, Al convinced Sam that the only way to set his mind right would be to receive another round of electroshock. Sam was terrified by the idea, but the longer he flip-flopped between alternate personas, the worse his connection to Al became, until Al was little more than a flickering image and a broken whisper. Sam was finally able to convince his doctor to execute another treatment, but right in the middle of it, lightning struck the equipment and he Leaped. The resulting surge in power scrambled Alpha's -- or rather, _Ziggy's _-- circuits temporarily, Leaping Sam back into his own body and Al into the body of a World War II veteran in the 1940's. The Leap had been fairly brief, but for a few hours life was good. He was _home_, in his own body, with the people he loved. But he loved his friend too, and all too soon he found himself faced with a terrible choice -- stay in the present and let Al die in the past, or do what he knew in his heart to be the right thing and leave the rest to fate.

_My God,_ Sam thought. _He meant that much to me, enough that I'd sacrifice my life for him, and now it's as if I barely know him._ It really brought home to him how fundamentally his life had changed when he Leaped in the Calavicci home and told Beth that her husband was coming home from Vietnam. He found that he was in control of his Leaps, but when he tried to go home, he still found himself in the body of another man. He sighed his frustration. _This close to Donna, and I can barely bring myself to kiss her, for fear of how much that guy in the mirror will get out of it. And that's not to mention what it would do to _Donna! _It just isn't fair_.

"Well, at least I can do something about _this_," Sam said aloud as he defiantlyreached for the shaving cream.

* * *

Cat calls and whistles echoed through the cafeteria as a clean-shaven Sam entered. Those few who had been awake the night before had awakened the rest of the Project, which led to an ad hoc reception peopled by scientists, doctors, and laborers in various stages of undress, most of them with breath that would make Gooshie feel right at home. Sam saw none of that now. "Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed," he quipped as he meekly nodded his head in acknowledgement. 

He made his way through the line, careful to order an omelet and bacon along with his much-desired coffee. No sense in getting Verbeena on his tail first thing this morning for not taking advantage of the breakfast buffet.

He eased up to the cashier and reached for his Project ID to pay. "Oh no you don't, shug," laughed the large black lady behind the register. "You ain't had my Time Warp Special in near 'bout seven years. I ain't _even _fixin' to take your money till you tell me if the recipe's any better than you remember."

"Sounds fair to me. Thanks," Sam said with a smile, and edged away.

He nearly had to fight off a procession of well-wishers as he closed in on a table off to the side of the cafeteria. So many people glad to have him back, so many expressions of gratitude. All he was interested in was Debbie Harmon's world-famous Time Warp eggs and a hot cup of coffee. Graciously, he shooed the well-wishers away and sat down, hand instinctively going toward the sugar and creamer.

A hand flashed from out of nowhere, grasping his wrist in a deathgrip. Sam jerked his head around, just in time to see the face of its owner -- a mechanic named Cliff or Cleave? -- twist and warp before his eyes. When Cleave's face solidified, it was no longer a mechanic's face, but one strikingly more familiar.

"Alia!"


	8. Chapter 8

His breath caught in his throat as his eyes riveted to the face that had haunted his dreams for the past year. Alia, the "Evil Leaper", as he---and Al, in another reality---had come to think of her. Her place in time was as much a mystery to Sam as the woman herself. He didn't know if she was from the future he created, or an alternate one, or perhaps even from his own present. All he knew for sure was that when their paths crossed, trouble was usually stowed in her carry-on luggage.

"What are you doing here?" he said breathlessly. "I thought I helped you get away---"

"There's no time, Sam," she said as she took her seat opposite him, forcing her body to relax into the chair as if she were an old collegue, taking a long overdue breakfast with the boss. "You've just got to trust me. Zoey's here, Sam, and she's after you."

"Zoey! Your observer?"

"When you helped me get away from the Hades Project, Lothos sent Zoey after me. I've been Free-Leaping since we last... worked together. Something that you just learned to do yourself, if memory serves."

"Free-Leaping? But how---"

"That's not important right now, Sam. What _is_ important is that if you don't stop Zoey, you're never going to get home."

Sam felt a slow smile quirking up at the mention of home. He cast a glance around the cafeteria. "Ummmm... don't you realize where you are?"

"Of course I do, Sam," she hissed, her jaws knotting in frustration. "Project Quantum Leap was required reading back at Hades. I know this place better than you do. And so does Zoey. I wasn't meaning this home, but your _real _home... your physical body. The end of your Leaping. Sam, she means to change your future! When she's done, you won't _have_ a body to Leap back into. You'll be stuck in time... like me."

"I don't understand. Stuck? Where's your body?"

She closed her eyes and sighed, trying to reign in her galloping mind. "It's still at Hades Project," she said slowly, "but in a form of temporal stasis. If I ever Leap back there, and my mind and body reunite, I'll die."

Sam sat there for a moment, dumbfounded. "Die? H-h-how---"

"I've already been here too long. She could find me any minute now," she said, looking around nervously, then swallowing hard and dropping her eyes to the table between them. "I knew what I was in for when I agreed to let you help me. It's not such a bad thing I guess, Leaping from life to life, striving to put right what I once set wrong. But it's a sentence that I'll be living out for the rest of my life, unless you can stop her."

Sam caught the gleam in her eyes. It was a brief flare of hope, quickly overshadowed by the fear that had set in, but he had seen it. It was there. Whatever crazy idea she might have, she believed it would work. Of course, the fear in her eyes spoke to the danger she was in just being here, danger she'd braved to bring him this information. And he had to admit, he wasn't as close to home as he'd hoped to be. The wrinkled, callused body of his host was more than testimony to that.

Finally, he nodded. "Alright. What do we do?"

* * *

Zoey sighed her frustration as she cycled through the camera displays. So quaint, the limitations of the computer monitor she sat before. What she wouldn't give for a holographic interface, or even a tri-def monitor, anything but this ancient over-glorified vacuum tube.

"Problems, Zoey?" came a soft voice from behind her left shoulder.

"Be silent, Thames," Zoey growled. "It's enough that I'm reduced to dealing with this turn-of-the-millenium culture and its backward technology. Honestly. Here we are in the very den of Dr. Sam Beckett at the cusp of the Quantum Age, and all you can think to do is taunt me?"

"I must find amusement in something," Thames said defensively.

"Why don't you do something constructive, like centering yourself on Dr. Beckett?"

"Same reason that you cannot find him. Lothos has scoured the reaches of his database only to come up empty. Project leaders at Quantum Leap destroyed all information concerning Dr. Beckett's return years ago. All Lothos has to go on are rumors and hearsay from this point until the congressional hearings next week."

"Then how are we to stop him if we cannot even find him?" Zoey hissed.

"Why not ask?" Thames said, mocking her frustration.

Ask, indeed. If she had a euro for every time that pinheaded---

"Gooshie?" called the Project Observer, Jacob Hoss, from across the Control Room. "Have you got that preliminary diagnostic done yet?"

Diagnostic? Ask, indeed!

"Actually, Admiral Hoss, I've run into a spot of trouble."

"A 'spot of trouble'?" Jacob snickered. "You been watching British comedy again?"

"Sorry, Admiral," Zoey said hastely, trying valiantly to mask her accent. "I've been trying to find Dr. Beckett, but I haven't been able to locate him. I could really use his help debugging this… ummm… system." Zoey silently cursed Lothos for Leaping her into this smelly little man while he was in the middle of some programming task or another. That maniacal tin can couldn't have found a more inconvenient moment to Leap her in if he'd tried.

"Last I heard, he was in the mess hall," Jacob said, already turning his attention back to the clipboard he was carrying around.

Her eyes shifted to a very smug Thames. "Not a word," she hissed as she turned back to her computer.

She cycled through the cafeteria cameras, looking for any sign of Dr. Beckett. Bad enough she had lost her position as Leap Observer, being relegated to Leaping herself. Worse, that she'd lost Alia yet again, and was forced to suffer Lothos' wrath---yet again. Now she had to sift through scores of Project workers, a faceless Leaper hidden in a sea of faceless strangers each after their morning cup of …

Her eyes were drawn to a small table off to one side of the cafeteria. Two men sat talking over their breakfast. Nothing entirely noteworthy about them, except the mannerisms of one of the men seemed out of place somehow. The way he expressed himself in his conversation, the way he laid a hand gently upon the other man's forearm…

"Hello, Dr. Beckett," she murmured, then added with a murderous---if surprised---smile, "and hello, Alia."

* * *

"Congressional oversight hearings?" Sam felt a stab of icy horror at the suggestion. Project Quantum Leap was almost killed by congressional hearings back in the late 1990's. How easy would it be to put an end to Sam's work by simply convincing the US government that it wasn't cost effective? He sighed. In all his Leaping, in all his Leaps involving other Leapers, it had never occurred to him that an outside force could be affecting his history. Oh sure, there was God, or Time, or Whoever. And he'd rewritten the past once or twice in his own favor. But it'd never crossed his mind that another Leaper could change his past. He wondered just how many times Alia, or someone like her, had fooled around with his past. But if they had…

"Now, wait a second," he started. "If Lothos wanted something done about Quantum Leap, why not just do something to stop the Project from ever happening? All Zoey would have had to do is change the past so that I was never born."

"Lothos couldn't do that," she said firmly. "His programmers based their work on yours. Quantum Leap served as a kick-off point for Hades Project. The big difference is that Quantum Leap has government oversight, whereas Hades is funded by a private corporation. Hades doesn't have the moral restrictions that Quantum Leap does," she added with a wry grin before continuing. "As such, Lothos is of the corporate mindset. All he worries about is how a certain event is going to affect the bottom line. He wants to put an end to your Leaping, but he has to be careful not to change too much of his own history. Hence the congressional hearings."

Sam's mouth dropped open as everything began to fall into place. "So when the Oversight Committee meets on Monday, they're going to dissolve Quantum Leap—regardless of my chrono-spacial status—and release Project materials under the Freedom of Information Act, which will put Project theories and technology into private hands. Keep the technology available, but at the expense of private corporations. And once that's done..."

"Hades is born, and you are expendable," Alia finished for him. "That gives us three days to put right what soon will be put wrong."


End file.
